


Butterfly Shade

by WildKingJackal



Category: Original Work
Genre: I JUST NEEDED A PLACE TO PUT MY BRAIN POOP, I'm sorry about this, Multi, if there are two writing styles clashing that's why, there's a lot of shit going on in this and I'm kinda writing this with a friend so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKingJackal/pseuds/WildKingJackal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael hates his parents more than he hates his life, he loves his twin more than he loves himself, but above all, he loathes and adores the man who shines as bright as the sun and talks as smoothly as darkness.</p><p>L is genderfluid and their boyfriend is just the loveliest. Scratch that, he's an asshole, but he's sweet to L. Together they rule the town with guns, drugs and alcohol.</p><p>What happens when the two pairs meet? Will disaster take over the city, or will they find a way to make peace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly Shade

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Bear with me, everyone.  
> <3

Every morning always starts the same. He gets out of bed at dawn, wakes his twin sister in the other room, comes back to get dressed as fast as possible and leaves with her for school.

He sits at his desk and never mentions his home life or his parents, only looking angry and intimidating to scare people off. He gets into fights because he knows how to harm people. He curls in on himself at lunch, sitting next to his twin to try and seem as harmless as possible. He protects her when needs be, but otherwise he stays out of her way unless she wants him to be there with her. She usually does.

For years he follows her around like a shadow, quiet and angry. He doesn't mind, he quite enjoys it, actually. But then there's  _him._ He freezes the first time he meets him. His name is Drew and he's a new teacher, tall, handsome and snarky as all hell. Michael regrets picking a seat in front. He barely listens the whole class as he stares at the teacher and his stupid, smug smile.

It's not that he wants to kiss him, oh god no. Fuck no. He just- he wants to punch him. Yeah. That's right.

When the bell finally rings, he runs off out of the class and down the halls to his sister, following her around like a shadow again. He messes his blond hair up a bit and sighs heavily, trying to get the image of that stupid teacher out of his head.

After school, he walks home, his rage itching just underneath his skin as he thinks of all the things his drunk father is going to do when he gets back from the bar. Or maybe he's still home, bottle of whiskey in his hand. He bites his lower lip, his sister leaving with friends looks back at him with worry but he manages a smile, somehow.

The walk home takes longer than he'd like to admit, his broken shoes the only other him annoying him. He stares at the front door for a bit before opening it and stepping inside as quietly as possible. The sound of the television already told him what he didn't want to know. He slammed the door, knowing it didn't matter anymore.

"Boy, is that you?!" The yell made him flinch, wanting nothing more than to slip through the floor right where he stood. "The fuck do you want, old man?!" He screamed back, anger lacing his words and rage boiling like lava out of his mouth. He didn't want to go to school with bruises tomorrow, but it was practically inevitable nowadays.

"What did you say you fucking faggot?!" From there it's blurrier than he'd like to admit. He watches the man appear and then he's on the floor, in pain.

He doesn't know how much time passes from there to when his mother gets home. She can barely acknowledge him, not with his father screaming at her already.

"-chael... Michael?" He stirs at the sound of his name, looking up to see who's there. "Mikayla...?" He grimaces at the sound of his voice, trying to move. "Don't."

She manages to drag him up to the bathroom, only to pepper his hands with soft kisses. "What happened?" "The usual. You know how he is." He shrugs, looking away as she starts to clean his wounds with the first aid kit's help. He pushes himself upright once his sister is done and pats her cheek weakly. "Thanks. Again."

Nights are always the longest. Nights are the times when Michael lays in bed at night and thinks of nothing. But instead of nothing, he's stuck with his new teacher in mind. He's flustered and warm, moving around the bed for a comfortable spot. He finds one, barely, and stays there, eyes closed as he still thinks.

Sleep comes two hours before he needs to be up. He repeats his routine and heads to school, the pain nothing more than an annoying hum in the back of his mind. Drew, he learns, is the name of his teacher. He's just as hot as the first time he saw him, smug and dark. He almost drools at the thought of the man until he tries to pay attention.

He gets into a fight with a popular kid at lunch, the snarl on his lips and snark on his tongue make the other guy throw the first punch. The fight ends pretty badly, Michael getting detention while the bastard got off free. "Stupid ass sports teams," He grumbled as he got to detentions after school. Drew was there, speaking with another teacher, and Michael stayed silent, listening to the man's smooth voice as he stared at the floor.

He looked up when they were starting to leave, a slight blush on his cheeks as he realised that the man was looking straight at him. He gripped his shirt over his heart and looked forward again, walking to the detention hall.

He doesn't talk about it with Mikayla, or anyone else. And the days go by as they always do, only Drew looks at him a lot with something like a calculating gaze and if Michael reacts to it with an excited shiver, he doesn't say. He gets worse than he already is in this class, though. It's hard to concentrate when your hot teacher keeps staring at you. If he's moved closer to the desk, Drew says it's so he can come up and ask for help without bothering the students too much. Michael accepts it as it is.

He stays in the class longer when he can, asking about homework and what not. If he blushes when Drew stands a bit too close, his eyes widening and making him look like an innocent cat, the man doesn't say anything about it. If he stumbles over his words, when Drew steps impossibly closer, looking at the floor, they don't mention anything of it. If Michael seems to lean into the small space, almost trying to close it by letting himself lean against the man, it seems unimportant after their talk.

Of course, most days he comes in with fading bruises, but every now and then he'll come in with fresh ones and if they end up talking then, Drew's hand is hovering right over a bruise on Michael's cheek. And Michael wants to close his eyes and lean into that hand, wants to feel safe for once in his life but he stops himself, looking more like a terrified stray than anything. If Drew almost traps him in the class to ask about it and Michael gets stupidly upset, they let it go.

They never touch each other. Michael wonders if it's a game they're playing, to see which one will touch the other first. He breaks a week before Christmas break when Drew keeps him to ask him how he thinks he'll be getting his grades up. Michael doesn't think when he says "like this" and kisses Drew square on the lips, a hunger behind the movement.

He panics right afterwards, running off without seeing Drew's own hungry eyes trailing after him. If he's dragged to a motel the next day after school, he almost bursts when Drew kisses him, something fierce and possessive in the kiss. And maybe Michael tells Mikayla about the hickeys on his collarbones and neck, but only because she's worried. He definitely doesn't blush throughout the whole explanation.

 


End file.
